


The Way I Always Do

by cafephan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Musician!Phil, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafephan/pseuds/cafephan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Phil is a famous musician, and Dan struggles to keep up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way I Always Do

_This fic is a songfic for['Coming Home' by The Vamps](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkpRd9Z_1t4), and I strongly advise listening to it as you read :) _

 

\--

It’s always bittersweet when Phil leaves for yet another tour.

With a guitar on his back and a suitcase at his feet, Phil holds out his arms and folds them around Dan, squeezing him tightly. Tears are shed, soppy farewells exchanged, and the most tender of kisses shared, before Phil is forced to leave, the harsh voice of his manager screaming down the phone at him to get in the taxi. Dan always follows him down to the lobby of their apartment building, watches him get into the taxi and greet his bandmates. Phil blows him a kiss and mouths an I love you, and Dan continues to watch until Phil’s taxi is nothing more than a minuscule splotch of black against a horizon of morning amber lamplight.

Then the realisation settles in Dan’s mind, just as the dust settles on Phil’s various music awards. Phil’s out in the world, doing what he loves, what he’s always dreamed about since even before they met as teenagers, his ambition a reality. But Dan’s still at home, a home made for two but housing only one, and Dan loses the one he loves to a sea of adoring fans every night, adoring fans whom scream Phil’s name at the top of their lungs, whom wrap their arms around Phil’s waist during meet and greets, the way only Dan used to do, when they would attend weekly parties in university.

\--

“Tour’s going amazingly!” Phil states chirpily, the American timezone he had adapted to over the six weeks does nothing to help Dan’s 3am tears, he feels that they couldn’t be more different in that moment.

The brunet’s fingers curl around the phone, clutching it ever closer to his ear, longing to be just that much closer to Phil.

“That’s great, Phil” he replies, biting his tongue to stop the string of soppiness and tearful selfish confessions before they can slip out of his mouth.

Silence is all that responds, and Dan can hear the distant sound of screaming fans outside Phil’s hotel room, they always seemed to find where the band stayed, and camped outside desperately seeking selfies and video messages.

The moonlight seeps through the curtains of their shared bedroom as Dan clutches the phone, willing for Phil to say something. _Anything._ The nights are the hardest, the times he feels the furthest away from Phil, the times he feels it might be easier to just give up. The times he feels his stomach churn in the most severe way, a combination of lovesickness, withdrawal symptoms and days of dodgy takeaways.

“I miss you” Phil speaks a minute later, and Dan can hear the emotion in his voice, the intonation at the end, that Phil was about to break into tears if he spoke even a syllable more. A tear slips down Dan’s cheek as his other hand grips the brightly coloured duvet, his elbow brushing against Phil’s pillow.

“I miss you” Dan repeats, taking the liberty of stroking the back of the phone with the pad of his thumb, pretending to himself that, in some way, Phil would know, would feel the touch, confirmation that it was all okay. That it will all _be_ okay.

They both sniff away brimming tears at the same time, and shaky silence follows.

“More than you’ll ever know” Phil adds, and Dan’s hand flies to his mouth, eyes squeeze shut as tears involuntarily fall. The clock on Phil’s bedside table ticks onto 4am, and Dan hears a knock on Phil’s side of the phone.

“Soundcheck,” Phil informs him, “But we’ll talk later?”

Dan brings Phil’s pillow to his chest, and his grip loosens on the phone.

“Of course,” Dan replies, it’s what Phil wants to hear. Dan wants Phil to be happy. “I love you”

“I love you more” Dan can practically see the smile on Phil’s face as he speaks, the toothy, goofy grin that sent the fans insane on a daily basis. The smile that was once reserved only for Dan, and not for the posters in magazines that were stuck on thousands of teenagers’ bedroom walls.

The call ends when Phil opens the door to his bandmates, one passing a comment on how cute one of the girls in their tour crew is, another enthusing about the following night’s concert.

Dan spends the remainder of the night clutching Phil’s pillow close to his chest, sobbing into the fabric as if it would make a difference. 

\--

“I miss you” Phil smiles, managing to make Dan blush even through pixels.

The Australian sunshine pools on Phil’s cheek, emphasising his defined jawline as he chats about tour mishaps and funny signs that fans made.

“I miss you more” Dan replies, looking down at his lap, playing with the drawstring of Phil’s university hoodie. He swallows back the urge to break down completely, and channels his focus on studying the duvet fibres whilst Phil continues about what the band did backstage during the support acts.

When Dan looks back up, Phil is frowning, and it pulls at Dan’s heartstrings in the most extreme way.

“I can’t pretend this isn’t killing me” Phil sighs, rubbing his face. Dan takes a deep breath.

“I fucking _hate_ hotel rooms” Phil says, sighing again and stretches an arm out to push against the wall. He pulls the hood of Dan’s horn hoodie over his head, and pulls the sleeves over his hands.

“Trust me it’s not so fun being here alone, either” Dan tells him, and Phil smiles, though it falters after a few seconds.

They make eye contact through their webcams, and it’s as if they properly see each other for the first time in weeks. Dan sees the bags under Phil’s eyes, the prominent frown lines etched on his forehead. Phil sees the redness of Dan’s bloodshot eyes, the way his cheeks are hollowed and how his skin has lost its healthy, happy glow.

“Just give me time” Phil pleads, locking eyes with Dan as he speaks. Dan is breathless, hooked on Phil’s every word, and merely nods. “After this, when I get back, that’s it for a while. It’ll be me and you, for at least two months.” 

The proposition makes tears prick the back of Dan’s eyes, and the slight feeling of giddiness form in the pit of his stomach. He feels selfish, in a way, for depriving the world of Phil for at least two months, but at the same time, he feels like there’s nothing he needs more. Phil’s life has been dominated by touring, meetings, signings, press junkets and countless other band commitments for the past two years, and Dan was dragged into the same routine of waiting over two glasses of wine, one empty and one full, over two stone cold plates of food that he spent the day slaving over. Dragged into the same routine of sitting in front of a DVD menu screen for hours on end, a full bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Watching the clock tick by whilst waiting for Phil, a time that very rarely came before it was too late.

“I’d give you anything” Dan finds himself blurting out before he has a chance to realise what he said, and he sees the colour form on Phil’s cheeks, and the smile grow on his lips. It’s an overly cliché, soppy response that Dan would usually scoff or laugh at, but it was all he wanted Phil to know.

“I wish you were here” Phil reveals, and his head dips as he looks down at his lap, the frown returning. Dan sees him tossing something slowly in his hands, but the camera angle prevents him from seeing what.

“I wish you were here,” Dan repeats, and Phil smiles. “You belong here”

Phil smiles even wider. Because he does.

“I love you” Phil says, and Dan still somehow feels the butterflies in his stomach, despite the phrase being shared by the two on nearly an hourly basis. It still made Dan deliriously giddy, as if he was thrown back to his teenage years in front of a blushing, awkward Phil, who nervously stuttered the phrase for the first time through his braces over a lunch of chicken nuggets and potato wedges, that he had prepared for them both in his parents’ absence. It still made Dan deliriously giddy, even when the phrase was said by the confident, yet goofily adorable Phil, the Phil who was a world-famous musician, adored by hundreds of thousands. The Phil who could have absolutely anyone in the world, but still chose Dan.

“I love you more” Dan grins, and Phil matches it. They smile at each other for a few seconds, just taking in the sight, neither of them had seen the other in such a genuine good mood for weeks.

“Impossible” Phil quips, and Dan rolls his eyes playfully. Phil sticks out his tongue in rebuttal and jokily scolds Dan for ‘ruining the moment’, but the moment is truly ruined by the arrival of Phil’s manager and bandmates, whom barge into the room unwelcomed and drag him off for an impromptu TV interview.

One of his bandmates, the drummer, has the courtesy to end the Skype call, with an awkward smile and apology before scurrying out of the room.

Dan lets the tears roll into his palms as the screen fades to black.

\--

“There’s nothing I want more than to be with you” Phil pouts, pulling his blanket up to his chin as the Spanish nightlife zoomed around him. But Phil didn’t seem to care.

The English afternoon sunshine was non-existent for Dan, the rain outside had dulled the sky so much that it was a dark grey, the terrible lighting on both sides of the Skype call made it appear a similar time, the dead of night. It was the closest Dan had felt to Phil in weeks.

“How many days is it now? Four?” Dan asks, flicking his gaze around the room in pursuit of the calendar that he had taken to crossing off the days of, circling the date of Phil’s return a million times.

“Eight” Phil grimaces, feeling a pang in his chest at seeing Dan’s face drop, his smile disappear completely.

“Just a few more days, we can get through it. Then I’m coming home and it’s just us, yeah?” Phil tries to keep the mood of the call positive, and Dan simply forces a smile and nods along, he just wants Phil to be happy, after all.

The call ends when Phil’s manager barges into the room, dragging Phil off to a ‘once in a lifetime interview’ that just so happened to fill the time up until soundcheck. Phil manages to blow a kiss before his manager drags him out of the room by his elbow, and Dan feels that same pang in his chest as he presses the end call button, his head immediately flopping onto Phil’s pillow beside him.

\--

It’s always bittersweet when Phil surprises Dan.

Dan has always been unpredictable when it comes to surprises, but Phil liked to think he had Dan all figured out by now. Knowing Dan for over ten years and being in a relationship for eight of those years did give him an advantage.

On Dan’s eighteenth birthday, Phil gifted him his very first mixtape, that he and his band – back when they were just starting out practising in a garage, posting occasional covers to YouTube – worked ridiculously hard on for months, Phil wanted every song perfected to the highest quality. Dan deserved nothing less, after all. Dan loved it. It was the best surprise he had ever received, he told Phil.

On Dan’s twentieth birthday, Phil had ran up to the flat ahead of him, leaving Dan to enter alone. Dan shakily walked to the kitchen counter and placed his jacket down, and fumbled for his phone, which Phil had sneakily taken before. He couldn’t find the light-switch, as Phil had planned, and stumbled around in the darkness until he made his way to the sofa, and flopped down on it and began to cry. Phil immediately dashed over to the light-switch and sat beside Dan, letting him sob into his shoulder. Dan swatted Phil around the head, and suddenly Phil’s bright idea of a surprise treasure hunt for Dan’s birthday presents in the dark didn’t seem all that good. It was the worst surprise he had ever received, he told Phil.

But as Phil stands outside the apartment building two days later, the polluted London air whipping through his hair and bulging suitcase at his feet, he feels optimistic.

The receptionist is more than willing to help Phil with his surprise, to get entry to the flat through pretending to need to visit Dan for a reason Phil didn’t listen to, he just thanks her and scurries up the stairs as quick as he can.

The knock on the front door seems to echo through Phil’s mind, and the whole process passes by in slow motion. His fist dropping from the door, swallowing back the lump in his throat, the way he struggles to catch his breath as the doorknob turns, and finally Dan’s face when he sees him.

It evidently takes a few seconds for Phil’s presence to register in Dan’s mind, and Phil can only grin as Dan cups his hands over his mouth and tears spill from his eyes. Phil himself is getting choked up as he wraps his arms around Dan and pulls him close, and presses a feather-light kiss to the top of Dan’s head.

“I told you I was coming home” Phil can’t erase the grin from his lips, and Dan lets out a shaky laugh, though continues to sob happy tears into Phil’s shirt.

“You said eight days, not two” Dan clarifies, and Phil pulls away, and holds Dan at arm’s length.

“Surprise!” Phil sings, and Dan blinks a few times, then rolls his eyes.

“You’re so _annoying_ ” he states affectionately, then pulls Phil in by his collar and presses their lips together, giving them both the sweet release from their own thoughts that they’ve been craving for the longest time, fulfilling that need for each other that phone conversations and Skype calls just can’t.

\--

Phil likes to believe that he has Dan all figured out.  

He knows that Dan has a tendency to say things without thinking when tired, that Dan cannot bake to save his life, that Dan always has to sleep on the right side of the bed otherwise he won’t sleep at all.

But nothing could prepare Phil for when he re-entered the living room on the eve of their ninth anniversary, the velvet box all but burning through his back pocket, to see Dan already crouched down on one knee, holding out a ring.

Phil likes surprises, and Dan knew that. It was all so perfectly planned out.

Phil sinks to his knees, a hand across his mouth, concealing his wide grin, and he reaches into his back pocket and retrieves the box, showing his own ring in return.

Dan drops his hands to the floor, placing his box on the floor, and they both burst into hysterical laughter.

But the laughter dies down and the realisation sets in as the cloud sets over the swirled pink skyline.

Dan likes to believe that he has Phil all figured out.

He knows that Phil has yet to enjoy a rap song, that Phil cannot bake to save his life, that Phil always has to sleep on the left side of the bed otherwise he won’t sleep at all.

But as Phil sleeps peacefully beside him, Dan links their fingers together, admiring the mismatched rings that lay proudly on their hands. It was so perfectly planned out, that much was true, it was just perfectly planned out in two completely different ways. The whole ordeal was so Dan and Phil it was ridiculous, so classically them. It makes Dan chuckle, so much so that Phil stirs beside him.

Phil reaches up to press a kiss to Dan’s cheek, and rests his head on Dan’s chest. He hums in contentment.

“It’s so good to be home” Phil whispers, and Dan sweeps patterns across Phil’s back.

“You’re my home” Dan replies, yawning straight after. Phil smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it feels so good to be back writing fics after so long! Basically I’ve been terrified to write since nothing will ever live up to Ripple but I forced myself out of that rut and produced this fluffball, hopefully you enjoyed it!
> 
> Also this is my first attempt writing in the present tense, I just wanted to try something different!
> 
> Please like, reblog and share the fic with anyone that you think might like it, and let me know what you thought of it :)
> 
> xx


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